Füge eine Handlung in deiner Sprache hinzuParanoid over the state of his disintegrating relationship, a man receives a mysterious invitation that simply states "10:30 P.M. Monday."Paranoid over the state of his disintegrating relationship, a man receives a mysterious invitation that simply states "10:30 P.M. Monday."Paranoid over the state of his disintegrating relationship, a man receives a mysterious invitation that simply states "10:30 P.M. Monday."
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Seemingly a West Coast answer to BIJOU, with the hardcore S&M angle from the second half of Fred Halsted's L. A. PLAYS ITSELF added for good measure, 10:30 PM MONDAY marks only the second (known) feature from Lucas Severin. I recall liking his "drifter in trouble" flick TWO DAYS IN A HOT PLACE a bit more, but after a slightly shaky start, MONDAY turns into a passable enough dime store phantasmagoria.
Like BIJOU, MONDAY is shot M. O. S. And more a mood piece than a fully developed story. Bob and Sam are a young gay couple in L. A., first seen fooling around in a park where another guy makes eyes at Bob. Back at home, Sam watches Bob jerk off on the couch, seemingly feeling distant from him, then goes out for a drive, checking out L. A.'s young male denizens in a sequence similar to Fred Halsted's "street cruising" scene in the far superior L. A. PLAYS ITSELF. Having received a cryptic note in the mail reading simply "10:30 PM MONDAY," Sam, left alone for the evening, is intrigued when a car pulls up in the drive. Hopping in, he's conducted to an isolated mansion, where he passes from room to room between different gay sex orgies of increasing intensity.
Severin does a few interesting things in the film, though it's not always fully successful. The beginning, for example, is largely illegible on first pass, since we simply see three men milling around and two of them making eyes at each other. It's only clear after the movie is complete what it was trying to convey here, and it requires a second viewing (or at least some retroactive deduction) to piece together what's going on. Like BIJOU, MONDAY is a music-only affair (BIJOU had one line of dialogue), which means it has to keep things simple, though it inevitably still ends up robbed of some efficacy. In contrast to Poole's impressive effort to create a truly disorienting, amorphous space within the confines of his own apartment, MONDAY feels more like a bunch of leather guys just got together one night at the bar and decided to throw together a movie. It's definitely a more grounded aesthetic, though the use of swirling lights (and a late-film superimposition of flames) as de facto opticals shows a degree of panache. One wishes Severin had leaned harder into these impulses, making this seem more like a congenial work-for-hire rather than Poole's legitimate passion project, but it's still semi-successful at what it's doing.
Where the film succeeds without question is in its presentation of some fairly rough-and-tumble S&M scenes, replete with plenty of fisting, beer poured all over bodies, a guy on a dog leash, etc. It's clear everyone involved is part of the milieu and having a gay old time (so to speak), and it's this inherent passion - along with some well-chosen stolen Pink Floyd tracks that set the mood nicely - that provide the film the majority of its impact. It's hardly a lost masterpiece, but as a fetish-centric riff on one of gay porn's seminal (pardon me...) erotic art pieces, it gets the job done nicely.
Like BIJOU, MONDAY is shot M. O. S. And more a mood piece than a fully developed story. Bob and Sam are a young gay couple in L. A., first seen fooling around in a park where another guy makes eyes at Bob. Back at home, Sam watches Bob jerk off on the couch, seemingly feeling distant from him, then goes out for a drive, checking out L. A.'s young male denizens in a sequence similar to Fred Halsted's "street cruising" scene in the far superior L. A. PLAYS ITSELF. Having received a cryptic note in the mail reading simply "10:30 PM MONDAY," Sam, left alone for the evening, is intrigued when a car pulls up in the drive. Hopping in, he's conducted to an isolated mansion, where he passes from room to room between different gay sex orgies of increasing intensity.
Severin does a few interesting things in the film, though it's not always fully successful. The beginning, for example, is largely illegible on first pass, since we simply see three men milling around and two of them making eyes at each other. It's only clear after the movie is complete what it was trying to convey here, and it requires a second viewing (or at least some retroactive deduction) to piece together what's going on. Like BIJOU, MONDAY is a music-only affair (BIJOU had one line of dialogue), which means it has to keep things simple, though it inevitably still ends up robbed of some efficacy. In contrast to Poole's impressive effort to create a truly disorienting, amorphous space within the confines of his own apartment, MONDAY feels more like a bunch of leather guys just got together one night at the bar and decided to throw together a movie. It's definitely a more grounded aesthetic, though the use of swirling lights (and a late-film superimposition of flames) as de facto opticals shows a degree of panache. One wishes Severin had leaned harder into these impulses, making this seem more like a congenial work-for-hire rather than Poole's legitimate passion project, but it's still semi-successful at what it's doing.
Where the film succeeds without question is in its presentation of some fairly rough-and-tumble S&M scenes, replete with plenty of fisting, beer poured all over bodies, a guy on a dog leash, etc. It's clear everyone involved is part of the milieu and having a gay old time (so to speak), and it's this inherent passion - along with some well-chosen stolen Pink Floyd tracks that set the mood nicely - that provide the film the majority of its impact. It's hardly a lost masterpiece, but as a fetish-centric riff on one of gay porn's seminal (pardon me...) erotic art pieces, it gets the job done nicely.
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- 1 Std.(60 min)
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